On The Outside
by Silawen
Summary: Sabu watches as Rob wins the WWE title and wonders when he lost it all. Hints at RVDSabu Slash.


AKA, On the Outside Looking In.

He'd been watching. From the bleachers, hidden from view completely, Sabu'd been listening to the crowd, seized by the buzzing atmosphere. Tired, his body still sore from the eventful match with Rey, he'd contemplated just leaving, but then there'd been Rob talking non-stop about his match with Cena, glimmering eyes telling a tale of excitement, fulfillment, and suddenly Sabu didn't have the heart to go. He had to stay, had to watch as his friend finally reached the pinnacle of his career – so far, at least – simply because the thought of upsetting Rob on a night so grand was something he couldn't stomach.

So there he'd been, taking note of every chant, catching every move, had to smile grimly as he recognized things of old. Rob was a big boy now, had finally been given the all-clear from the WWE, but Sabu could still vividly remember the anxious wreck Rob had been those first few weeks in ECW.

And now, now Rob was standing in the ring, crowd ecstatic, hands holding the title that meant all, a huge grin on his face. It should have been a joyous event, but for Sabu it hurt. Hurt more than he dared to admit. Because with that title came another step Rob had made that he couldn't. He'd been let in, and Sabu knew _he_ was forever stuck on the outside.

It had been like that for quite a while, ever since ECW had folded and Rob became a superstar. It had taken separation for Sabu to realize that he'd rather enjoyed having the guy around, though he'd been quickly forced to get over it. Japan, Indies, they all beckoned, and losing another friend to greener pastures became one of the last things on his mind. And yet, it was still there.

Rob had called, of course, and visited when he could. Not often, but it had happened, and it was the remembering they did that Sabu had enjoyed most about those times. Discussing what they'd done; together, to the industry, finding that no matter what changed, there was still that connection. Faint, weak, but lasting. Sabu tried not to care, tried not to ask Rob how he was doing, but even the annoyance of having his friend go on and on about the unobtainable didn't take away from the utter joy on Rob's face. Something so sincere that it could make even Sabu smile.

Sabu blinked, trying to rid himself of memories he didn't care to relive. Not here, not now. He'd been let in again, somewhat, through this unlikely foray in WWE infected waters, but thinking about belonging had been given up ages ago. He didn't belong here, not really, and as he watched his friend, he realized that even more.

In the ring, Rob celebrated. Fans lined up, the roaring far from dying out, and Sabu caught sight of their delighted faces. Just like old times. Only not, because this time he couldn't jump in.

Sabu sighed, realizing once again that he wasn't a part of this. He could delude himself, could delude the fans, but he didn't fit. The only reason he'd come here was for the money, and that had lost its shine the first time someone asked who he was, the first time his moves had been limited, and his opinion ignored.

Turning away from the scene, he decided he'd seen about enough. Were Rob to ask, Sabu'd be able to recount in detail – if his foggy mind held up – his last move, or Edge's interference, whatever the guy asked. There'd be no upset eyes this time, no ruining what mattered most, so Sabu felt like he'd done his job.

Stalking past cheering stagehands, ducking away so some of the other Originals wouldn't see him, he walked into the hallway. He could still hear the thunderous cheering, hurting more than it should, and suddenly he felt really old. Had he not done everything he could to make it in this business? It should have been enough, and he certainly shouldn't envy one of his best friends for reaching such a goal. Yet he did, though secretly he wasn't sure if he envied Rob for being in that spot, or envied that spot for being what Rob wanted most.

He didn't dare go there, instead focused on his shaking hands. Unlocking his rental, he made sure to seem inconspicuous, though he doubted anyone was out here anyway. They should be inside, celebrating, not out in the cold like the washed-up-wrestler Sabu felt he was. No shimmering eyes for him, no sparkling teeth. What had once been his – adulation, adoration, affection – now belonged to the business.

The business, with its many twists and turns, that always took the one thing you didn't want to give. And made you do so willingly.


End file.
